Hush, little baby
by nothinparticular
Summary: What if Delphi Riddle hadn't been sent to live with Euphemia Rowle but was raised by her aunt instead? Narcissa cares for Bellatrix' child as if she were her own, showing her the same love she holds for Draco. And down the road, our favorite Pureblood witch faces many challenges but also finds love with a very unlikely young woman... #Spoilers for Cursed Child #Cissamione
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** I see in the statistics that many of you abandon this story after the first chapter. And I believe this might have something to do with the somewhat unusual style of narration. However, hang on even if it is 'not your thing'. Because starting with chapter 2, you'll have the good old 3rd person narrator - as well as the past tense.

So, enjoy ;-)

* * *

She is with her sister during the rainy night in which her niece is born.

Bella is clutching her hand until she's certain the bones will break but she merely continues whispering to her and wiping sweat off of her forehead. It is not an easy birth but what else would someone expect? Bellatrix was barren, unable to conceive a child. The Dark Lord was more dead than alive. Still, somehow they had managed to create a life.

She shudders when a thought takes up residence in her mind. What if this wasnt really a child? What if it was a monster?

Nevertheless, she urges Bellatrix to push.

Until finally,

finally a blonde head crowns, soon followed by the rest of the infant. Narcissa holds the child in her arms, cuts the chord that connects her to her mother, and gives her back a gentle pat.

And there it is. A newborn's first strong cry, not unlike her Draco's.

"It is a girl," Narcissa smiles, all pain, fear and tiredness forgotten. "She is beautiful, Bella. She has your eyes."

Bellatrix reaches out for the child and Narcissa carefully places the naked bundle in her arms.

She watches her sister closely and gasps when for a moment, time seems to stand still and Bella reminds her of the woman she once was.

"She does have your hair," Bellatrix snickers, running a finger through the fine blonde hair. "I don't think you'd ever approve of the blue tips though." She indulges in cradling the babe for another brief moment before she starts moving around on the bed.

"Take her," she says, passing the girl to her little sister without sparing the child another glance. "I need to inform our Lord of her birth. He will be disappointed that it is not a son…"

"But-"

Bellatrix casts a quick cleansing spell on herself and leaves the room without looking back, leaving behind her sister and her newborn child.

Narcissa sighs when the baby begins to cry. Was it merely the hunger? Or did she feel the loss of her mother as strongly as Narcissa felt the loss of her sister? She softly sings an old nursery song to the unnamed child, rocking her in her arms.

She studies the little girl as she slowly starts to calm.

Her niece is a beautiful newborn. She has obviously inherited her grandmother's hair and the fine blonde wisps contrast beautifully with her dark eyes. Narcissa briefly wonders about the blue tips, wonders if they somehow belong to her just as the tiny button nose or whether this could be something else; could she be a Metamorphmagus like Nymphadora, Andromeda's daughter?

Once the crying has subsided, she calls out for Winky, one of their female house elves, and asks for a bottle of warm baby milk.

She makes her way to the nursery on the first floor – a small room furnished with Draco's old crib and changing table – and sinks down in the new rocking chair she'd added to the collection herself. Looking down at the baby, a wave of sadness overcomes her and she is struggling to hold back tears. A child should be welcomed with open, with loving arms, and neither of her little niece's parents was likely to offer either. She'd known so from the day Bellatrix had told her about the pregnancy, had known from the clinical tone her eldest sister had been speaking in, but hope was always unavoidable and painful. She'd hoped against hope that this child could change her sister, could turn her back into the woman she once was and save her from the darkness. It had been a futile hope.

"Mistress?"

She snaps out of her thoughts and finds Winky standing in front of the rocking chair, holding out a bottle of formula as well as a receiving blanket.

She takes the things from the elf and nods. "Thank you, Winky. You may retire for the rest of the night, I won't be needing anything else."

"Yes, Mistress. Winky lives to serve, Mistress. Is happy to help."

"I know you are. However, this is not a matter you or I can resolve. – Good night, Winky."

* * *

The first few months are especially exhausting. Bellatrix and the Dark Lord have all but abandoned the child to her care and Narcissa knows little Delphi feels her parents' absence. The babe is crying throughout most of the days and nights and has recurring fevers and stomach aches. Delphini Riddle is a frail, a weak child, and Narcissa still feels surprise at the fact that yet she lives.

Caring for the infant is tiring, a real challenge, but Narcissa finds she is quite happy about the distraction. The things that happen in and out of the Manor are turning worse every passing day and if it isn't Delphi that keeps her up at night, it is the screams of someone being tortured with the Cruciatus and … other methods.

Over the months, Delphi gets stronger, healthier. Her cries have mostly ebbed away and she has turned into a beautiful, curious child once she reaches her seventh month. Narcissa cares for her as if she were her own, even redecorates the nursery and buys an enchanted mobile with black unicorns and majestic hyppogriffs. She is excited when she notices the girl's first tiny tooth and thrilled when the first word she says a month later is "Ci".

Mostly, she and the girl stay on the first floor of the house. No one except the Dark Lord, Bella, her husband Rodolphus, Lucius and herself even know of the child's existence; Lucius is still in the false believe she is Rodolphus'.

Delphini is a bargaining chip, a weakness the Dark Lord can't afford. He may not love the child but she is his sole heir and will one day hold his legacy. Narcissa agrees with keeping her a secret but has her very own reasons. She doesn't want Delphi to be in more danger than she already is – she doesn't want to lose the child she loves very much like her own. One day, she'll have to face her heritage, but this day is still in the future.

* * *

When Delphi is almost 9 months old, all hell breaks lose. Snatchers come to the Manor and inform them that they might've captured Potter and his friends.

Narcissa is with Delphi when they come, doing magic to the girl's delight. When Winky imposes on their time together without being summoned, she immediately knows that something has happened. She tells the elf to fetch her husband and meets the Snatchers at the Manor's gates. They claim they have captured Potter and at first Narcissa is sure that this can only be a mix-up. Surely Mr. Potter and his friends wouldn't let themselves be captured by mere Snatchers.

As soon as her eyes fall onto the three captives though, she thinks that Greyback might very well have caught the boy-who-lived. His face is swollen - maybe a stinging jinx? - but his coloring is right and the other two are definitely Hermione Granger and the Weasley boy.

When the three teenagers are being pushed into her living room, bound and gagged, Narcissa immediately notices that not only Lucius, but her sister and son as well have arrived. She is by now rather sure that they really have Harry James Potter beneath their roof, but she isn't about to let them know.

She is proud when her son doesn't identify the boy either, knowing it would be Potter's certain death. And she stops Bella when she gets a little too rough with Draco.

She cringes when her sister notices the Sword of Gryffindor in the hands of one of the Snatchers and her gut clenched in terror when it's revealed that it was found in the girl's things. She's ordered to take the boys to the dungeons but Pettigrew takes that duty from her before she can even go the first steps. So she goes back to join the others, her eyes falling onto the girl who is hit with Cruciatus after Cruciatus.

Hermione Granger looks too young to be the brightest witch of her age, too young to be of such importance for the outcome of the war. Too young to hold such fear in her eyes. And definitely too young to be hit with the Cruciatus.

It pains her to watch as the girl writhes on her living room floor, her muscles spasming from the torturous energy.

Bellatrix crucioes her until she almost passes out but the girl does not give in, does not give up their secrets.

Finally, Bella loses her patience and a grin steals onto her lips, her dark eyes glinting devilishly.

Narcissa almost gasps aloud as she sees the silver knife appear in her hand, as Bellatrix kneels down next to the quivering girl and starts rolling up the sleeve of her shirt.

"I am going to brand you for what you are. Mudblood," Bellatrix giggles and the sound sends a coldness through her body, her veins.

She makes her decision in the matter of a second, doesn't have to take time to think this over, time there really isn't left. She only knows one thing: She will not stand by and watch her sister forever mark a girl who is the same age as her son. There hadn't been a thing she could've done against the Cruciatus. It didn't work with the Unforgivable.

But there was something she could do now.

"Dolorulcus transmissimo," Narcissa whispers as Bellatrix sinks the knife into the pale flesh of Hermione Granger's forearm.

The pain flashes through her like a lightning bolt, threatens to engulf her. She gathers her strength, gains back her carefully crafted composure as she, Lucius, and the Snatchers passively watch Bella carve into the girl's arm.

The Gryffindor whimpers and bucks against Bellatrix' hand holding her down as one after the other, eight angry bleeding letters appear on her formerly unmarked skin:

 _M - U - D - B - L - O - O - D_.

Narcissa wishes she could take all of the pain but knows she can't. Bellatrix mustn't suspect a thing.

So instead, she clutches at her own arm and bites her lip until she tastes the metallic flavor of blood on her tongue.

She is drenched in sweat by the time Bellatrix finally finishes her masterpiece; upholding the spell and keeping herself from crying out has taken all her strength.

The Granger girl doesn't know that the mark on her arm will fade away in a day or two and that the pain she felt was only a tiny part of the pain Narcissa felt. She doesn't know that after today, Narcissa will forever bear the word 'MUDBLOOD' on her own arm.

The blonde murmurs a quick spell to at least stop the bleeding from her burning arm, just as Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley appear in the room, aided by Dobby.

A fight breaks out during which Narcissa unfortunately 'loses' Ms. Granger's confiscated wand, practically levitating it into the girl's hand. Curses and jinxes fly back and forth until Dobby finally grasps the three teenagers and apparates them all away. Not without laying down his own life though. Narcissa knows he won't survive; the Sword of Gryffindor has embedded itself right in his little chest.

While Bellatrix and Lucius argue with the Snatchers and curse about losing Potter and his friends, Narcissa excuses herself to see after Delphi. She knows that she is safe and well taken care of whenever she is with Winky but she needs to get away from this room, from her sister, needs to tend to her arm and disguise it before Bellatrix spots the blood on her sleeve. Delphi is a good and welcome excuse.

 _NDHNDHNDHNDHNDHNDHNDH_

Narcissa sleeps fitfully that night. The cursed wound on her right forearm is burning her up and pain is still pulsating through her blood. It doesn't help that she sees Hermione Granger's accusing eyes as soon as she closes her own... The girl had begged them for help, had begged her for help, keeping her eyes trained on her, hoping to get to her and to awaken her conscience.

And while Narcissa HAD cared, HAD helped – it just hadn't been enough. It could never be enough.…

Eventually, she gives up on sleep altogether and heads to the nursery to check on her little girl. To her surprise, she finds Delphi awake, watching the little unicorns and hyppogriffs flutter above her crib.

"Ci, Ci!" she smiles when she notices Narcissa, immediately reaching out with her little arms, demanding to be held. "Ci," she happily giggles once Narcissa picks her up and sits down in the rocking chair.

"Aren't you tired, little princess?" Narcissa feels her pain slowly ebb away as she snuggles the child, a layer of comfort and warmth settling over her. She always feels better when she is with the little girl but she knows right away that this is something else.

"It is your magic, isn't it?" Narcissa smiles, her eyes teary as she cradles Delphi to her chest. "You're soothing the wound. Soothing me."

The child merely giggles to herself and grabs two fistfuls of Narcissa's long blonde hair, observing it with eager interest.

"I love you, Delphi. I know you are not mine but yet you are. You are my daughter and you always will be."

* * *

Delphi doesn't stop crying in the three days after the Battle of Hogwarts and the defeat of Voldemort. The one-year-old feels, knows that something is wrong. Somehow, the little blonde knows that her parents have left this world.

But it isn't for them alone that she cries. Her Ci hasn't come back either and she misses her with every fiber of her tiny being. The toddler knows abandonment all too well even if she doesn't yet understand the concept nor the rest of the world.

She knows she's alone. She knows there's only Winky.

In the evening of the third day, a stranger comes and takes her from her home. The place he takes her to is foreign to her but the voice she hears upon arriving is instantly stopping her tears.

"Delphi," Ci cries as she takes her into her arms. "Don't cry, princess. Mama's here now."

Narcissa feels infinite relief wash over her at holding the child in her arms again. After three long days of being held prisoner in a classroom at Hogwarts, she'd come to the decision to lie about Delphini's true parentage. She couldn't bear to leave her alone for even a minute longer and had demanded that they bring her daughter to her, thus claiming her as her own.

It didn't matter though. Both Bellatrix and Voldemort were gone – she was all their little girl had left. And, she'd rationalized her decision, she was the child's mother already. Maybe not by birth but that was only a minor detail as far as she was concerned.

"Why wasn't the birth of your daughter registered at the Ministry?" the Auror wants to know, closely watching her interaction with the toddler.

"Lucius and I were afraid for her life," she lies easily, stroking Delphi's blonde curls. "In times of war, a child can easily be turned into a weapon. We thought it prudent to keep her a secret for the time being. I am sure you can understand."

Other questions follow the first one, some of them downright insulting, but Narcissa is too happy to have Delphi back to actually care. She can see the sadness in her dark expressive eyes. Somehow, Narcissa thinks, she knows that her parents are no longer in this world.

"That will be all for now," the young Auror finally says. "Of course you will have to remain here until a decision is made; risk of flight, you know."

"I do. However, could you at least send in a house elf with something to eat for my daughter?"

The man nods and leaves the room, locking it behind him.

She's been in this room for three long days now.

 _NDHNDHNDHNDHNDHNDH_

During the first 24 hours, she'd been mostly left alone with the exception of a single house elf who would bring her her meals, scarce as they were. She'd been worrying about her son and filled with grief about her sister's death. She'd been wondering if Delphi was alright.

The second day had been the day she started worrying for herself. Aurors came into the room thrice that day, each of them questioning her on her role in the battle, housing the Dark Lord, and her husband and sister's 'activities'. She answered their questions truthfully, telling them about the torture, the screams and even her own fear. She told them about the night two months back, when Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger had been held at the Manor; however, she omitted the details of the girl's torture under her sister's hands. This was a story for the Gryffindor to share, not for her. She knew revealing what she had done, showing them the painful, still reddened scar on her forearm would benefit her own defense, but she would not speak up. She doubted Ms. Granger wanted the whole world to know about what happened that night; if people knew, they might try to push her into the victim's role and she'd be in the spotlight for all the wrong reasons. No, she would not be responsible for causing the girl even more suffering.

She owes her and everyone else her family had harmed that much and so much more.

On day three, she'd been informed of Severus' death. Another painful loss to add onto her list. They'd met at Hogwarts when they were first years and been close friends ever since, connected through the Dark Lord but also their shared passion for Potions as well as literature.

She fondly remembered the many nights they'd been sitting arm in arm in the Slytherin common room, Narcissa casting the 'Lumos' while Severus read to her from one of his muggle books; she'd enjoyed 'Jane Eyre' the most – the story of the lonely and mistreated orphan had touched her heart and soul.

"Ci," Delphi wriggles in her arms and draws her attention back to her, back to the present. "Down!" the small child with the wild blonde-blue curls demands and Narcissa smiles, setting her down. The Aurors have transformed one of the desks into a makeshift bed but apart from that, the room is still very much a classroom. Luckily, there is a small bathroom connected to it.

Narcissa watches as the girl wobbles through the room and feels herself relax for the first time since the night before the battle. Somehow, things would be alright. They had to.

* * *

 **AN:** Welcome to this new "playground" of mine. I wrote this draft only a few days after reading the Cursed Child and I finally got back to it. To some, Delphini Riddle is just a bit too much, others, like myself, find her to be a very fascinating addition to JK's Wizarding World. And while I really don't want to picture Bellatrix and Voldy doing the nasty *cringe*, I do see some logic in it.

And I couldn't help but wonder about the girl Delphini could've grown up to be if only she'd known a mother's love.

And I suppose that's actually it already. From my side at least. For I hope you guys have something to say about this first, very long chapter of my story. :-)


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione was talking quietly to Luna when Draco Malfoy approached her. The Slytherin looked even paler than usual and his eyes had dark circles beneath them. Apart from that, the blond was seemingly unhurt.

"Granger – a word?" he looked desperate and his eyes were pleading so Hermione nodded and motioned for him to come with her. They walked to a corner of the Great Hall that wasn't as crowded as the others and Hermione raised an expectant eyebrow.

"My mother – no one will tell me if she is hurt or even yet alive, … they won't tell me anything…" his usually sneering tone was subdued and shaky, full of worry and fear.

"I am sorry, I didn't know," Hermione felt genuinely sorry. It had been three days since the battle and yet no one had felt it was their responsibility to tell a son of his mother's fate? He may be a Malfoy. They might've been on the wrong side of the war. But that was just cruel... "I know that she is alive," she told him and visibly saw how a weight was lifted from his shoulders. "I believe they are holding her in one of the classrooms."

After a moment she added: "You know, I really don't believe they'll send her to Azkaban. She saved Harry's life and, as I understand, at least never actively took part in any of Voldemort's crimes. Your father however-"

"I know. They took him to Azkaban yesterday. He's awaiting the Kiss."

"I am sorry. For what it's worth. He is your father."

"Thank you. And for telling me about my mother."

Hermione nodded and turned her back to the Slytherin, returning to Luna's side.

"He seemed sad," the girl voiced her thoughts, watching as the Malfoy heir hesitantly approached one of the aurors.

"He was looking for news on his mother," Hermione explained, rubbing her temple. "It seems no one told him of her fate so he naturally believed the worst. And he will be losing his father–"

"Hermione," Kingsley Shacklebolt ran up to her, breathing rapidly. "Have you seen Harry?"

"He was walking the grounds earlier, together with Ginny." Hermione frowned as loud voices reached her ears. "Kingsley... What's wrong?"

"A mob…" he shook his head. "They're out for blood. One would think they had enough of suffering and death after the last couple of days. – Most of the aurors are out hunting the remaining death eaters. I don't have enough people to stop them."

Stop them from what?"

"Shacklebolt!" Draco called out from the other end of the Great Hall, his voice panicky.

"They're out for her, aren't they? Narcissa Malfoy?"

The minister merely nodded.

"I shall help you," Hermione announced, jogging up to Draco's side, Kingsley gasping for breath behind her.

* * *

They raced through the hallways until they reached the clamoring crowd.

They were chanting words of hatred which Hermione would love nothing more than to unhear and some of them were casting spells at a heavily warded classroom door.

Then, with a loud bang, the door finally gave in.

Hermione and Draco squeezed through the masses and when her eyes fell upon the scene in the classroom, her heart stopped beating for a long second.

There she was, Narcissa Malfoy, proudly standing in the doorframe, blocking the entrance to the room with a strong magical barrier. Her hair was wildly flying around her face from magical gusts of wind and she looked ready to take on the whole horde of witches and wizards on her own.

Behind her, Hermione noticed with widening eyes, a small blonde child was standing on wobbly legs, the tiny hands pulling at the witch's cloak with sheer desperation.

Realizing that the the witch wouldn't be able to hold up the shield for much longer – especially considering that she was casting it without the help of a wand to fully channel her powers – she nodded at Draco and the two of them positioned themselves on either side of the doorframe, their wands raised.

Fortunately, the mere sight of Hermione startled the people enough to make them stop. At least for a moment.

"What are you doing?" Her brown eyes wandered over the enraged crowd, accusingly staring them down. "Have you all lost your mind?! The bodies of your loved ones have barely even left the castle grounds and you're out to draw more blood? I understand that all of you are frightened and fighting with the grief that has us in its grips… But if we lash out out of fear and seek revenge… then we aren't any better than he was. It was the fear of change that first drew people to Voldemort's side, the hatred of the new and different. And this fear, this hatred, has culminated in terrible bloodshed... Do not add to it. Do not seek revenge. – It won't bring back the ones you lost. And it won't help you deal with the losses. I am disappointed in you all. I thought you were better. That we were better. But here you are, attacking a woman who doesn't even have a wand. Attacking a woman who is protecting a child! Sha-"

"Out of my way!" Shacklebolt had finally caught up to them and fought his way through the crowd, two young aurors at his side. "Thank you for getting this under control," he lowered his voice so only Hermione could hear. Then he turned to the crowd of witches and wizards. "Ms. Granger speaks true. Mrs. Malfoy's fate is in the hands of the Wizengamot and the Ministry. It is not your task nor your right to enforce justice and especially not with the way you have chosen… The Malfoys have wronged many of us and they will pay for what they have done, for the role they played in this war. This I promise you." He motioned towards the two aurors at his side and they walked towards the blonde witch, gripping her arms as she dropped the shield. "Mrs. Malfoy will be taken to Azkaban and remain there until the Wizengamot has made a decision about her punishment."

"No! Mother!" Draco stepped into the aurors' way, keeping them from taking her away. "You can't do this!" he yelled, his blue eyes flickering from his mother's to the minister's face. "She'll die before they even begin her process! She saved Potter! Isn't that worth-"

"Draco," his mother's quiet voice and her soft hand on his cheek made his voice waver.

"Isn't that worth anything?"

"Draco, look at me," Narcissa said to her son, her own features calm and devoid of any emotion. "Do not underestimate me. I will not die, not even if it takes them a year to come to a verdict. Do you hear me? I will not die."

The young man nodded, his mother's words reducing him to a boy, his eyes watering.

"I will be fine." She leaned forward as much as she could with the two aurors restraining her and kissed his forehead. "Take care of your sister for me, Draco. She is all alone and she will need you. Get Winky, she knows how to care for her."

And with that, they watched as the aurors escorted Narcissa Malfoy away.

The abandoned toddler began to cry, not understanding what had just happened and why they had taken her Ci away. Her little face was scrunched up in fear and sadness as she stood forlornly in the middle of the empty classroom.

Seeing that Draco was too shocked to process, Hermione took pity on the small child and picked her up, holding her securely in her arms. A strange sensation took ahold of her as soon as she'd touched the child, a strange tingle shooting throughout her body.

"Shhh, little one, don't you cry," Hermione whispered to the distraught child, running a hand over her soft hair. "You're not alone. I promise."

And when the child had finally calmed, Hermione carried her to her older brother, almost pushing her into his arms. She had to get away from the strange feeling that had overcome her the moment she'd picked her up.

Then she made her way back to the Great Hall; she needed to find Kingsley.

* * *

"Why did you have them take her to Azkaban?" Harry's green eyes were boring into the Minister's brown ones, demanding answers. He'd been walking the grounds with Ginny, taking some time off from being the boy-who-lived and the boy-who-killed-Voldemort, only to come back to utter chaos. He wasn't a fan of any of the Malfoys but that didn't justify taking Narcissa Malfoy to the Wizarding Prison. Anyone in their right mind knew that no one came back from Azkaban unscathed.

And while Draco's mother had passively watched and supported Voldemort over the years, there were other things to consider.

She'd lied to the Dark Lord to save his life. She'd killed several death eaters, among them Mulciber. And she had a small child.

Harry hadn't seen the baby yet but he knew it was a little girl, probably around a year old. Just the same age he had been when he'd been orphaned…

"We had to take her away, Harry. The people were demanding-"

"Her head? Her life? Since when do 'the people' decide about such things?"

"Harry, try to understand..." Kingsley tiredly kneaded his temple. "She couldn't stay here. It wasn't safe. Not for her nor for everyone else."

"But she is safe in Azkaban?" Harry shook his head, a bitter chuckle escaping his throat. "Neither of us would be here, alive and talking, if it wasn't for her. You shouldn't forget about that."

"Harry's right," Hermione had quietly entered the room after listening in on the conversation for a few minutes. She'd actually been on her way to Kingsley for the same reasons as her friend. "There has to be another option," she declared, pacing the room. "I uhm… I've never told anyone about the time we'd been captives at Malfoy Manor, about the hour I was up there alone. With Bellatrix… and the Malfoys. Bellatrix' interrogation techniques weren't exactly gentle. And no one helped. They all looked away as she… I begged. And I begged her, Narcissa Malfoy... but she didn't help. And I hate her for that, believe me, I do. But even I don't think she deserves to be at Azkaban, Kingsley. She really doesn't. At least not before she's been tried and found guilty. If the Wizengamot decides it is the best to let her rot away at Azkaban? Fine, let her. – But not like this. Not now."

Harry nodded in agreement, gently squeezing Hermione's shoulder, knowing she was probably reliving whatever had happened to her at the hands of that madwoman. He wished she would talk to him about what had happened. Or Ginny. Anyone really. Because she desperately needed to talk about this. He could see it was eating her alive.

"All right," Kingsley sighed, scratching the stubble on his broad chin. "I have heard what you had to say and I give you my word that I will try to find a different solution." When Harry opened his mouth to speak, he added: "And I'll try to do so quickly."

* * *

Draco was sitting on the stairs in the entrance hall – or what remained of them – bouncing his little sister on his knees, intently studying her features.

Up until an hour ago, he hadn't even known about the child's existence and he didn't know what to think about the whole thing. His mother had never kept anything from him, at least nothing as important as this. And while the small girl shared his mother's silvery blonde hair – the blue tips were odd though – and was definitely a Black in resemblance, he just couldn't believe that she was truly hers.

He would've noticed if his mother was pregnant, wouldn't he?

And those piercing dark brown eyes… Were they simply an inheritance from his grandfather Cygnus – or something else entirely?

"Who are you?" he mumbled to himself, the child curiously smiling up at him as if she perfectly understood and knew that she knew something he didn't. "I don't even know your name..."

* * *

 **AN** : Thank you for the kind review, _SH4D0W44_ :) I'm always happy to hear from you.

Everyone else, too, actually. Stop it with the silent treatment and let me know what you think ;)


	3. Chapter 3

"Kingsley, please!" Minerva followed after the Minister, trying to talk some sense into him. "You can't be serious! Do you even have an inkling of what she had to endure during the past year? Kingsley!"

"Minerva," the tall wizard turned around, finally giving up on his hope of getting rid of the formidable woman by simply ignoring her. "I don't like this either but my hands are bound; the Wizengamot has made their decision. Narcissa Malfoy is to stay with-"

"Please tell me this is a joke!" Hermione Granger was fuming as she pushed a letter into the Minister's face.

He sighed, knowing what the piece of paper said without having to look at it.

"It is not. Herm-"

"Oh no, don't you 'Hermione' me! Didn't you hear a single word of what I told you last week? She just stood there, staring at me! And now I'm supposed to…" she trailed off, the anger ebbing away and making place for another emotion. One that left Hermione feeling tiny and helpless. "Please don't make me do this," tears were trailing down her cheeks as she begged the wizard to tell her that it wasn't real, that it was just a cruel joke. "I can't…"

"Now you see what you've done?" Minerva McGonagall glared at the Minister, moving her right arm around Hermione's shoulder and leading her away.

They sat down on a broken pillar, the old witch rubbing soothing circles on the young woman's back.

"Professor, I can't-"

"Shhh, I know, Hermione. I know. I would gladly offer myself in your stead but I have to think of Hogwarts... The school needs me now more than ever and I can't-"

"I know," Hermione sniffed, wiping at her eyes. "I…"

A shadow fell over the two witches and they looked up only to see the object of Hermione's distress standing above them.

Narcissa Malfoy looked pale – too pale to be alive – and dark shadows lay under her eyes, speaking of the horrors she must've witnessed at the Wizarding Prison. She wore the same dusty robes she'd worn when the aurors had taken her away six days ago and if Hermione wasn't fighting with her own nightmares, she would've laughed at how disheveled the Lady Malfoy looked.

"I am sorry, I shall come back later…" she whispered upon taking in the scene she'd stumbled into, feeling that she was the reason for the girl's pain and tears. The auror who had brought her realized too late what was about to happen, lost at the sight of seeing their war heroine so broken.

So when Narcissa took a few steps away from the pair sitting on the pillar, she suddenly cried out in pain and fell to her knees, clutching at her neck.

Hurriedly, the auror jumped into action, roughly yanking the blonde to her feet and pulling her back towards the two witches.

Hermione and Minerva were watching wide-eyed, trying to make sense of what had just transpired before their eyes.

"I am sorry you had to witness this, Ms. Granger, ma'am," the young man apologized to the shocked witches, his cheeks flushing with embarrassment.

"What was that just now?" Minerva was the first to recover, motioning towards Narcissa Malfoy who seemed to be fighting with tears, her hand rubbing at her neck, her lips pressed into a thin line.

"Oh, you don't know?"

Both Minerva and Hermione shook their heads.

Without a warning, the eager auror pushed the blonde witch forward and into a kneeling position in front of the new headmistress and the 'golden girl'.

Narcissa's face didn't show her inner turmoil at the humiliation; she remained calm and unfeeling, only closing her eyes so she wouldn't have to see the looks on their faces.

"Was that really necessary?" Hermione's brows furrowed together in anger at the man's display of power. This was no way to treat anyone, especially not a person one was responsible for.

The man raised a disbelieving brow at her but didn't say anything. Instead, he motioned to Narcissa Malfoy's neck. There, close to her left ear, was a small symbol. Hermione gasped as she recognized the black crooked cross for what it was. They'd branded her with a rune. With 'Nauthiz'. It was one of the runes from the old nordic rune alphabet and meant 'constraint' or 'force'. And currently, currently it was glowing like the embers of a fire, red and angry.

"You didn't!" Minerva McGonagall breathed out in disbelief. "This is barbaric! There is a reason runes aren't used like this any longer! Have you learned nothing from our ancestors! Branding people like cattle!" The enraged woman jumped onto her feet, poking a finger into the cringing man's chest. "Who did this?"

"I.. I don't know… please, ma'am. The Wizengamot ordered it… I was just the one to retrieve her from Azkaban and..."

"Out of my sight!" she yelled, pushing on his chest and sinking into a crouch next to the still kneeling Narcissa, closely inspecting the rune.

It was now completely black, once more reverted to its original state. Obviously, the rune only allowed its bearer to move a certain distance away from the one it was bound to. Hermione.

"Well, this complicates matters..."

* * *

Two hours later, Hermione and therefor Narcissa still hadn't moved. Hermione was still sitting on the pillar while the blonde was sitting next to it, her eyes closed and her back leaning against it. None of them had spoken even a single word.

"I am sorry," Narcissa's voice startled Hermione; it was unexpected and softer than she'd ever heard it.

The young witch looked at the Pureblood and found that she was staring at her hands in her lap. "I never wanted for this to happen. I… I am sure they would be willing to... to send me back to Azkaban."

"No," Hermione responded, her voice firm. "You won't. Go back, I mean. I will… deal… with the situation."

Narcissa nodded, her eyes still trained on her hands, her long and slender fingers.

"Would you like to see your children?"

Her head snapped up at her words, blue eyes finally meeting brown. Hermione could see the shimmer of hope in them.

"I… Yes, I would love nothing more."

Hermione stood up, expectantly looking at the older witch. "Let's go then."

Together, the two witches made their way through and out of the destroyed castle. On their way to the gates they earned many stares; it was strange to see such different women walking next to one another, let alone so close. How could they know that both of them were scared of the rune on the blonde's neck? Scared of straying too far away from the other and walking unnecessarily close as a result…

"Your son has gone back to Malfoy Manor," Hermione began once they'd left the castle grounds. "I will have to apparate us."

Narcissa nodded, holding out her hand. The girl hesitated for a few moments but eventually grasped the older woman's hand, both of them feeling the spark that jolted through their bodies at the touch.

Closing her eyes, Hermione held onto both her wand and the cold hand in her own, she concentrated on the Manor. Seconds later, they were gone.

* * *

Due to the strong blood wards active around the Manor, Hermione had only been able to apparate them to the front of the gates.

Now the two of them stood in front of the tall brass gate, unsure of what to do.

Narcissa had noticed how the Gryffindor had tensed up upon their arrival, how tightly she now gripped her wand and how quickly she'd pulled her hand away from her own. Hermione Granger was scared and uncomfortable. She didn't want to be here, much less set foot into the house.

"Winky," Narcissa called out, quite sure that the elf would hear her Mistress' summons. And she wasn't disappointed.

A moment later, the tiny elf stood in front of the two witches, beaming up at her Mistress.

"Mistress has returned! Winky is so glad to see you! Master Draco will be so happy-"

"I haven't returned, Winky," Narcissa stopped the eager elf, giving her a small smile. "Would you tell my son to come into the garden? And tell him to bring Delphi, please."

"Of course, Mistress." And with a quiet plop, the elf disappeared once more.

"I thought you might prefer to stay outside of the house, in the garden…" Narcissa explained as she found Ms. Granger questioningly eying her. "After what-"

"Yes. The garden will be fine," Hermione interrupted her. She wasn't ready to talk about that night. Maybe never would be. Narcissa could see the way her shoulders slightly relaxed and silently nodded to herself. It had been the right decision. It was nice enough of the girl to even let her see her family… she wouldn't thank her by dragging her into the house. Not to mention that Narcissa had never considered it as a home either…

She opened the door – knowing very well that Hermione would be severely burned if she tried to – and waited for the girl to walk through before she followed her, closing it behind them.

They'd only walked a few steps when Draco came running towards her, having set Delphi down on the ground as soon as his eyes fell upon his mother.

"Mom!" Draco pulled Narcissa into his arms, strongly holding onto her as she wrapped her own arms around her son. "How? Why-? I don't understand... and why is Granger with you?"

"They have agreed to release me from Azkaban," Narcissa said as she moved out of his embrace and crouched down to pick up a happily giggling Delphi. "But only under the condition that I stay with Ms. Granger until my hearing and the Wizengamot's final verdict."

She pressed the child against her chest and kissed the top of her head as Draco sent a thankful look towards Hermione. He was grateful for what she was doing for his mother.

"So, how long will you be staying?"

"I-"

"We can stay a little while," Hermione answered, watching how Mrs. Malfoy smiled and began to blow raspberries onto the little girl's cheeks and chest.

Draco nodded and led them to a set of benches next to a beautiful well.

Together with Hermione, he observed how his mother interacted with Delphi, how she tickled the child and playfully splashed her with water. She looked tired and worn but, and he felt like jumping into the air at that, relatively unharmed from her stay at Azkaban.

"Mother, could I talk to you for a moment? Alone?"

Narcissa nodded. She picked up Delphi and followed after her son, only to gasp in pain.

She'd forgotten.

Quickly, she set Delphi down and took a few steps back towards Hermione, clutching at her burning neck. She panted as wave after wave of pain flooded her body, struggling with tears, barely hearing the exchange of words between Hermione and her son. She got the gist of what they were talking about though.

"I'd forgotten about it... branded her… Nauthiz… only... couple steps…"

"That's barbaric! …who... and they're … good ones?"

"I know, Headmistress McGonagall said the exact same thing. She was furious. I am sorry, Draco. I really am. I didn't ask for this nor did Kingsley."

"It is quite alright," Narcissa straightened up, tightly holding onto Delphi who looked rather frightened. "I alone am responsible for this mess I find myself in. If I'd-"

"No, mother!" Draco sharply interrupted her. "You didn't do anything wrong! He was threatening me, all of us.. What were you supposed to do? And this?" He pointed to her neck where the rune was still emanating a red glow. "No one deserves this. I will-"

"You will do nothing, Draco. Nothing. Do you hear me?" Narcissa set down the baby and cradled her son's head in her hands. "I am certain the trial will be soon and then this'll be all over. Until then, I will stay with Ms. Granger."

"But-"

"No buts. I don't want you to garner any attention to yourself. Their focus is elsewhere right now but if you give them any reason... Please, Draco. Listen to me just this once."

Draco turned his back to his mother, throwing his hands into the air in frustration. Finally, he turned back around.

"All right... But that doesn't mean I have to like it. And what happens with Delphi while you're 'indisposed'? Will you take her with you?"

"I, uhm… I have to confess I haven't thought about that. I-" she looked at the brunette witch, the question clear in her eyes.

"I don't mind whether you take her with you or leave her with Draco," Hermione shrugged her shoulders. "I should tell you that we are leaving the country for a couple days though. I have something I need to tend to in Australia..."

Narcissa nodded, knowing she had no choice but to follow the young woman wherever she wanted to go. She wondered what Ms. Granger wanted to do in Australia... Well, she'd obviously know soon enough.

"Would you mind watching after her a little longer then, Draco? Until we get back?"

"Of course, mother. Winky's been a great help. We'll manage."

"Well, I suppose things are settled then." Narcissa bent down to Delphi once more, kissing her chubby baby cheeks and stroking through her wondrous hair. "I will be back soon my sweet. Do you hear me? I will be back. I love you."

She got up to her feet again and drew her son into a parting hug before nodding at Hermione.

"We'll leave for Australia tomorrow," the girl announced, letting both Narcissa and her family know. "We'll spend the night at my parents' house."

"All right. Draco, can you send Winky with a few of my clothes? She'll know what to pack. I'd really love to change out of these... rags."

The wizard chuckled at his mom's scrunched up nose. He'd wondered when she'd address the situation of the state of her robes. "You call that rags? You should have seen what Weasley had to wear to the Yule Ball back in our fourth year.."

Hermione couldn't help but grin at that statement. Ron's dress robes really had been something else. Her redheaded friend still suspected that they'd once belonged to his great-aunt Magda.

Narcissa merely raised a brow at that.

"All right, all right," Draco sounded amused. "I'll notify the elf."

"Good."

The unlikely pair left behind the Manor and soon appeared outside of Hermione's home.

* * *

Narcissa entered the house after Hermione and let her eyes wander. They were standing in a hallway, right in front of the stairs leading up to the first floor where she was sure one would find the bedrooms. To her left, a door led into a white country-style kitchen, the evening sun making it glow in soft shades of pink and yellow. To her right, another door led into the rather spacious living room; it was adorned with comfortable looking, dark brown leather sofas, white and green cushions, and several ceiling-high bookshelves. It looked inviting, nothing like the living room back at the Manor.

She closely studied one of the family portraits on the wall. It was a beautiful memento even though it didn't move, showing a middle-aged couple together with a slightly younger Hermione.

"Where are your parents if you don't mind me asking?"

"They're in Australia."

"Oh. So we're going to visit them?"

"Yes, something of the sort," Hermione said, dodging the question.

Narcissa felt that the girl was uncomfortable so she fell silent again. After a while of quiet, she spoke. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you."

"This is... this is somewhat awkward?"

Hermione dryly chuckled. "You can say that again. – Are you hungry?"

"I uh… If you wouldn't mind, I'd like to change into something clean first?" Narcissa looked down on herself, taking in the dust, the grime, and the splatters of blood.

"Sure, the bathroom's right upst-" Hermione stopped in the middle of the sentence. "Oh…"

"Oh."

"I uh, I guess I'll just have to come with you." The young witch started her trek up the stairs, all the while mindful of not waking too far ahead.

"This is the bathroom," Hermione opened one of the doors to their left and was surprised to find a small suitcase sitting next to the tub. "Well, I believe your house elf had already been here. I'll just wait outside, you know, if you'd like to shower or something?"

"That'd be nice."

"All right."

"All right." Narcissa walked into the room and closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a few seconds, taking deep breaths, not knowing that Hermione was doing the exact same thing on the other side.

* * *

 **AN:** Thank you guys for the awesome reviews - you've turned me into a bundle of joy. A very productive one at that. Can't believe I already posted chapter 3 and such a long one at that.

So, who wants to go to Australia? And what do you think about the rune? Let me know.

 _3catsdog_ Ooh yes, I am looking forward to writing that scene!

 _ReigningQueenOfCrime_ Good questions, every one of them. They'll be answered in one of the coming chapters. Promise.


	4. Chapter 4

Narcissa lay on the bed Hermione had – admittedly rather skillfully – transfigured for her, staring into the darkness. She was unbelievably tired after six days of being awake but couldn't find it in herself to close her eyes. Too much was going on in her mind; this was not the time for sleep, no matter how much she might want to do just that.

She felt guilty for not telling Draco the truth about his little 'sister'. But with the Muggleborn in forced hearing distance, there hadn't been a way to let him know. In a way, it really didn't make a difference though. Delphi's parents had passed away and even when they were alive, she had been the one to care for her, the only mother she knew. They were family now. Still, Draco needed to know.

Then there was the matter of the mark on her neck, the damned rune. Yet another thing that physically bound her to the Granger girl. Absent-mindedly, her fingers ghosted over the contours of the scarring on her right forearm.

She'd fallen unconscious from the pain of receiving the rune only to wake up strapped to a broom, high in the air, a short while later. She'd been so relieved to get away from that place that she didn't even care where she was taken to. It was only upon their arrival at the ruins of Hogwarts that she was informed of her immediate future.

Azkaban. The cries and moans from the other prisoners, the cold and howling wind, and the faceless dementors were branded forever into her mind and her memory. During those six days, she'd neither slept nor eaten. She'd merely sat there, in her cell, staring at the wall and waiting. Waiting for someone to come, waiting for her death... she honestly didn't know what or whom she'd been waiting for. The days had seemed endless and the nights even longer. The dementors…

"No, please don't!"

Narcissa first thought she was merely hearing things because of the dark direction of her thoughts.

However, when the voice sounded for a second time, she knew that it wasn't only inside of her head. No. Hermione Granger was obviously having a nightmare.

"No, please don't. Help me. Please. Don't let her hurt me."

She cringed, knowing exactly what the girl was dreaming about. She'd uttered those exact words in between two rounds of the Cruciatus, her eyes boring into Narcissa. It had cost her all the willpower she had to not jump in right then and there. But she'd had her son to think of. And she could never sacrifice him, endanger him. Not even for the child of another mother.

Narcissa sat up on her bed, trying to make out the girl in the bed next to her own. Thankfully, the full moon was shining through the only halfway closed blinds, allowing her to see.

The brunette was tossing and turning, entangled in her blanket and her curls wildly flying in every direction, tickling her face.

"Please," the girl whimpered. "Please make her stop."

And that was the moment when something broke inside of the Pureblood. She couldn't just sit there and watch. Not this time around. Not when she could help without having to fear for Draco. She got to her feet and tiptoed the few steps over to Hermione's bed, sitting down on the mattress next to her and gently stroking her cheek. "Hush, little baby, don't you cry, mama sings you a lullaby…" she half-whispered, half-sang. The old nursery song had always managed to calm both Draco and Delphi and she hoped it would do the same for the young woman. And after a while, the words and the rhythm seemed to reach Hermione's unconscious, for the tossing and turning stopped and she was no longer begging for help. Narcissa sat there for a little while longer – just watching her sleep peacefully and running her fingers through the thick curls – before she returned to her own bed. She was glad she'd been able to help and even more grateful that the girl hadn't woken up. The girl hated her and she had every right to.

* * *

"Is it really necessary that I wear this strange Muggle attire?" Narcissa asked as she was looking down at her 'new' clothes, her nose scrunched up in something akin to disgust. The girl had given her a pile of clothes and told her to change for their journey. She reckoned that they belonged to Hermione's mother, seeing as the girl herself was taller than her. Mrs. Granger and herself obviously shared the same height, yet her clothes were too tight in most places – her breasts visibly strained against the rough fabric of the yellow shirt – and definitively not anything she'd ever consider wearing.

The brunette witch merely rolled her eyes. Hermione was rather amused by the Pureblood's fidgeting and incessant pulling on the hem of the t-shirt. But, if she was entirely honest to herself, she also enjoyed the display for another reason altogether. Because while yellow clearly wasn't the blonde's color, the way the simple shirt and jeans made her appear younger and kind of 'softer' was a sight to behold.

"We are not traveling to a Wizarding Community but to a small Muggle town," Hermione once more explained. "You cannot wear any of your wizarding robes and dresses without garnering unwanted attention."

She raised a single eyebrow as the blonde bit her lower lip, clearly wanting to say something but unsure if she should proceed. "Yes?"

"Would you at least consider transforming the color of this shirt into something less…?"

"…Yellow?" Hermione finished the question, a grin stealing onto her face as something came to her mind. "All right. I suppose I could do that for you."

And with a 'swish' of her wand, Hermione changed the color of the shirt.

"Really, Ms. Granger?" Narcissa incredulously stared at the offending object, wishing she had her wand. If only the aurors hadn't taken it. She was rather skilled at performing wandless magic but one should never try to transform or transfigure something without the aid of a wand; the results could be rather... surprising, often times even unpleasant. "Pink?"

"You did not clarify which color to change it to," Hermione replied innocently, playfully batting her eyelashes. Then she remembered whom exactly she was jesting with and her face immediately darkened. "Well. If your ladyship is ready, I would like to leave. The portkey's set to leave any minute now."

"Of course," Narcissa said, having a hard time at concealing the disappointment and defeat she was feeling at Ms. Granger's change of demeanor. It had been rather nice, the banter... With a last glance at her attire – at least she was allowed to wear her own shoes, a tasteful pair of white stilettos – she joined the girl, holding onto the other end of the silver necklace.

* * *

The first thing Narcissa registered upon their arrival in Australia was the sweltering heat. All around them, the air was flimmering from the high temperatures and a little further off, she could see the outlines of houses. Hopefully, that was the place they were headed to. She doubted that the girl had managed to obtain an apparating permit. It was difficult to get one; she knew because she'd dealt with the bureaucracy more often than she wished for in her life on Lucius' side.

"So," Narcissa began, following after the young witch once she'd set into motion, the two of them heading towards the settlement in the distance. "You said this was only 'sort of' a visit to your parents – what exactly is it you have to 'tend to'?"

When Hermione didn't deem to grant her an answer, Narcissa sighed. "Ms. Granger. I understand that you may not wish to discuss a private matter with me... But I will have to come with you anyways and I'd rather not stumble through the darkness."

The girl grunted in frustration – maybe, no, probably annoyance as well – but stopped walking, turning around to face the blonde. She studied the older witch for a moment until she finally seemed to have come to a decision.

"I wish to take my parents back home, back to London, now that the war is over."

"I understand. They had to flee the country because–"

"Would you let me finish?"

Narcissa shut her mouth, slightly blushing. "Of course. I apologize."

"I uhm… they never would've left if they'd known about the war, the upcoming battle, or my plan to help Harry destroy the horcruxes. They never would've left..." Hermione's voice grew weaker and quieter with every word that she spoke and Narcissa could clearly see the guilt in her brown eyes. What had she done that it troubled her so?

"I…" the young witch continued, her voice shaky, barely able to speak out the words she had to. "I had to do it. There was no other way… I obliviated them… took away their memories. They don't know that they have a daughter... they don't know anything about their old lives... I had to.." she broke off, visibly distraught now.

"You did the right thing," Narcissa hesitantly stepped closer, placing a hand on the girl's shoulder. She was pleasantly surprised when it wasn't immediately shrugged off. "I know this won't be any consolation to you... but..." She trailed off but seeing the hopeful look in warm brown eyes, Narcissa revealed the painful truth. The girl needed to know that it had been the right, the only thing to do. "The Dark Lord… I overheard him one night, talking to some of his most loyal followers. McNair, Findabair, Mulciber, the Lestrange brothers… some others whose voices I couldn't put to a face.. The Dark Lord was furious with them. He'd send them out to capture 'the Mudblood's parents' and they'd come back empty handed. – Your parents would most likely be dead or worse if you hadn't taken them away."

Hermione nodded absent-mindedly at the witch's words. They – as well as surprisingly the warm hand atop her shoulder – made her feel a little better even though some of the guilt remained. Yet, at the same time, it also reminded her of the other woman's past. Of the evil she'd housed under her own roof. Of the many times she'd looked away. Of the night she herself had been prisoner at the Manor.

Suddenly, the comforting hand seemed to be anything but. Hastily, she shrugged it off and continued walking towards her destination, knowing that the Pureblood would follow. After all, she didn't really have a choice in the matter.

Fifteen minutes of walking later – the older witch's cursing accompanying her all the way (she obviously had a hard time maneuvering the uneven terrain with her heels) – they reached the outskirts of the town she'd made her parents go to.

She came to a stop next to the town's welcome sign, her eyes finding those of her companion. "Thank you. For earlier."

* * *

 **AN:** Well, here I am, updating again. Am I spoiling you too much?

 _Naomi-chan203_ I gotta say - I really love your reviews. And I am already looking forward to the next one. Your way of reviewing actually seems rather genius to me; I, for one, often forget about some things until I am at the end of a longer chapter. So just go ahead with your technique :) Uuuh, and thanks for the metaphorical pat on the back. I am rather proud of my rune idea.

 _ReigningQueenOfCrime_ Glad my story makes you think. It'd be too easy and boring to just hand around the answers. And yes, the rune really is a cruel way to thank Narcissa..

 _EagleHawk_ Aww. Thanks. Nothing wrong with short reviews in my book. I'm happy about the brief ones, too.

 _SH4D0W44_ Well, wouldn't you like to know? Don't worry. The girls will soon start experimenting with the rune. Hermione is curious and a sucker for new knowledge after all.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN:** first this time around. I have changed a few minor details in the first chapter because I couldn't really see it the way I wrote it. Only concerning Hermione's time at the Manor though (nothing has changed about the torture or Narcissa taking away her pain and her wound). You do not have to read it again but check it out if something in the later parts of this chapter doesn't make sense to you. _(If you read Chapter 1 after February the 9th, 2017, go ahead and ignore everything of the above)._

So, enough of this and on with the story. This chapter is probably the longest I've ever written and I'd love some feedback if you find the time. Also, I believe some of you have been looking forward to this one!

* * *

The two witches stood in front of one of the town's buildings, both of them looking at a brass sign that read ' _Dentistry. W. & M. Wilkins_'.

"What are their actual names?"

"Mhm?"

"Your parents."

"Diane. Diane and William Granger," Hermione replied, finally tearing her eyes away from the sign, from the visible proof of what she'd done.

"So what do you intend to do? If I may ask. You said you are here to take them back to England. But what about their memories? Do you intend to restore them?"

The girl nodded. "I do. I know the spell is not easily reversed but I have to try, don't I?"

"It is not as difficult as most books and the Ministry would like us to think," said Narcissa, her voice adopting a slightly haughty tone, and a small smile appearing on her lips as she saw that she'd drawn the girl's interest. "At least if one has good intentions in mind and does not wish to gain access to the lost memories for their own profit. Of course, it is still a rather complicated spell and requires a certain level of skill and power from its caster. – Do you know which spell to use? Do you know the proper wand movements?"

Hermione shook her head, suddenly feeling embarrassed at her lack of preparation, her naivety. She'd leaved through countless books, searching for a spell to reverse the Obliviate, only to draw up a blank. "How-"

"How do I know?" Narcissa knew the question that must be burning on the tip of the girl's tongue. "Belonging to one of the eldest remaining wizarding families does not solely revolve around the matter of blood purity," the sarcasm and bitterness in her voice was easily to discern. "We still remember spells that have been widely forgotten – some of which should also remain that way. Cygnus taught us much of what he knew, handing down the knowledge of the generations before... Tell me, how were you going to restore your parents' memories?"

"I was going to try Legilimency if everything else failed," Hermione felt dumb only uttering her 'plan'. "I was going to look for uhm.. barricades… and try to break them down."

The blonde witch pursed her lips in thought. "Well, it is not a terribly stupid idea. Yet I think you'd fare better if I taught you the spell. As of right now, you are a mere stranger to your parents. I highly doubt they'd just let you enter their minds willingly, Muggles or not. You could quite possibly do more damage than good."

"You'll teach me?"

"That is what I just said, isn't it?"

* * *

Half an hour later, the two witches found themselves sitting on opposite sides of a spacious double bed. They'd found and checked into the town's only hotel, agreeing that they would need a room, a private space where Narcissa could teach Hermione the required spell.

As of right now, both of them were still dealing with the onslaught of thoughts and feelings the hotel clerk at the check-in desk had awoken.

 _Ten minutes earlier_

"We would like a room, please," Hermione confidently strode up to the older man sitting behind the check-in desk, placing her ID on the counter.

The hotel clerk put a pair of reading glasses atop of his wrinkled nose and closely studied the ID card.

"Ah, welcome to the 'Albatross Inn', Mrs. Granger," he brightly smiled at her and her silent companion, already turning towards the room keys hanging on the wall behind him.

"It's Miss actually, Ms. Granger," Hermione corrected him, giving him a warm smile of her own. The man reminded her a little of her deceased grandfather.

"Oh, I am sorry, I thought the two of you were married," the old Muggle glanced at Narcissa, his eyes filled with appreciation. "You should seal the deal before she finds someone else," he conspiratorially winked at the young woman, smirking at the deep blush that had risen on her cheeks. "Such a woman doesn't walk around the corner every day." He chuckled. "I would know. Asked for the hand of my Martha after our first date. I knew I wanted this one and no one else the moment I'd first laid eyes on her… Not every woman looks pretty in pink."

Hermione politely nodded at the man, hoping against hope he would get going and finally hand her a key.

Surprisingly, Narcissa came to the 'rescue'.

"My dear... Mr. Roy," she leaned over the counter with a dazzling smile, reading his name tag. "My fiancée and I arrived from Europe only a few hours ago and we are very tired after the long flight. Would you.."

"O-Of course, my lady," the clerk stumbled over his words, rushing to push a key into the blonde's delicate hands, almost tripping over his own feet in his hurry to fulfill her every wish. "Here you go, dear. Would you like for a light lunch to be sent up as well?"

"That would be wonderful, Sir."

* * *

"So."

"So."

"Should we wait until after lunch arrives or would you like to start right away?"

"I suppose we should wait."

"Mhm-hm."

"Why did you say we were engaged?" Hermione wanted to know, turning around on the bed as Narcissa did the same.

"It was what he wanted to see," said the blonde without batting an eye. "Oftentimes it is easier to just let people believe what they already assume to be the truth."

The Gryffindor fell silent, contemplating the older witch's response. If that was really the way she saw and handled things, could it be… Could it be that the cold, dutiful Pureblood wife had only been an act as well? That she'd merely been catering to people's beliefs?

Because surely, the Narcissa Malfoy she'd assumed to know wouldn't give a damn about her parents or whether they remembered her or not? Surely she wouldn't bother to try and comfort her about her decision?

"So how do I know if I am dealing with the 'real you'?" Hermione asked the question that she really wanted and needed the answer to.

Narcissa secretively smiled at that. "You will know."

 _NDHNDHNDHNDHNDHNDHNDH_

A while later – they'd eaten their lunch in what would probably count as a companionable silence – the two set to work.

Narcissa was watching as the girl practiced the pronunciation and wand movements of the spell.

Hermione's intonation was just fine but she was obviously having a hard time getting the complicated loops and figures right. As it was now, the spell would probably sooner change her parents' hair color to green than recover their memories.

"May I?" Narcissa asked and, not bothering to wait for an answer, stepped closely behind the young woman, covering her wand hand with her own. She took a deep breath – why did she suddenly find it hard to breathe? – and gently guided her hand through the air.

Hermione was having to deal with quite similar problems. The woman's nearness was making it difficult for her to concentrate on the matter at hand – why did she feel like all of her nerve endings were on fire? – and the scarring on her exposed forearm was distracting her…

Wait… the scarring? She couldn't remember seeing a scar earlier. Had she really payed so little attention to the other woman that she hadn't noticed the slightly reddened welts and indentations that began just above her right wrist?

Furrowing her brows, Hermione pulled the offending limb towards her, gasping as she recognized the scar for what it was.

But how…

She didn't understand.

It looked exactly like… yet.. it couldn't be, could it?

"How…"

As soon as Hermione had pulled the pale arm closer towards her face, Narcissa had felt her breath hitch and goosebumps appear on her skin. When the brunette gasped, she knew she'd failed to uphold the thin glamour. She knew she'd seen what she was never supposed to see. She tried to pull her arm back, away from the girl's sharp eyes, but found that Hermione had wrapped her hand around her wrist and was tightly holding on to it. Then, she was running a single finger over the crude lettering, Narcissa shivering from the simple touch.

"How?" the young woman asked once more, this time with more confidence, with emphasis. She turned around and her brown eyes peered intently into Narcissa's blue. "How?"… Then, "Please. I.. I need to know. Tell me?"

And Narcissa nodded, leading the girl towards the bed so they could sit down, her hand still not letting go of her arm. She knew she couldn't keep this from her any longer. She'd known as soon as she'd been bound to Hermione, known that it would only be a matter of time until she slipped up or the girl suspected something.

"The night you were brought to the Manor," she began, wondering where to start and finally settling on the beginning. "The …" she trailed off, wondering why this was so difficult. Then, an idea hit her. "Can I... would you allow me to just show you instead? You are schooled in Legilimency… I mean, you thought about using it on your parents, so-"

"I am. And if that is really how you wish to tell me?" Hermione held the blue eyes with her own, looking for any uncertainty or distrust in them. She found neither. Only regret. And guilt.

"No. I want to do this and this is the best way to show you."

"Okay," Hermione took a breath and let go of the woman's arm, raising her wand to her forehead and closing her eyes, knowing Narcissa would follow her lead. It was a huge token of her trust when someone allowed you to 'dive' into their mind. She'd never expected Narcissa Malfoy to freely offer such a thing to her of all people, to anyone really.

"Ready?"

"Yes."

"Okay, try to-"

"Relax, I know."

"Legilimens!"

* * *

Hermione fell through time and space, trying to find something to hold on to. The mind of another was always somehow like a strange and unique land, undiscovered territory, and you neither understood the language nor did you know where to go. Hermione knew this because Harry's mind had been a right mess when she'd helped him practice his barely existing Occlumency skills to shield himself from Voldemort. Of course, he'd been trying to fight her, trying his best to keep her out of his mind..

Suddenly, the falling stopped and Hermione found herself standing in a bright circular room, unsure of what to do. With Harry, the falling hadn't ended and she'd only ever been able to hold onto short pieces of memories, like ledges or cliffs.

She looked around, trying to decide which of the many doors to walk through, when her feet started to move towards one of them out of their own accord. Getting the hint, she took up walking herself and twisted the golden knob, pushing the elegant white door open. She walked through and found herself in a spacious bedroom, where the owner of the memory was currently transfiguring glittering snowflakes for a happily giggling Delphi. A warm smile was on the blonde's lips and Hermione felt the love she felt for the child sitting in front of her. When a house elf appeared in the room, its big eyes apologetic for interrupting, the woman's brows drew together in a frown.

"Winky?"

"Winky is sorry, Mistress, but there is a group of people at the gates," the elf explained, wringing its hands. "The werewolf is leading them. They say it is urgent."

"The werewolf… you mean Greyback?"

Winky nodded. "Yes, Mistress. They think they have Potter."

"Potter, you say?" the witch's frown only deepened. There was a moment of silence, then she nodded. "Winky, take Delphi to her nursery and summon Lucius. I shall deal with the guests."

Narcissa got to her feet and hurried out of the room, Hermione following after her as the room dissolved into nothingness.

'Greyback… of all people,' Hermione heard Narcissa muttering as together they ascended the stairs to the ground floor of the Manor. When she noticed that her lips weren't moving, she knew she was hearing the blonde's thoughts. 'Thinks he's got Potter.. tsk... As if Potter would get himself captured that easily.'

Yeah, well. She'd never thought they'd get caught either. Not by a horde of Snatchers. They'd been so careful... and then, one slip up by Harry – who'd used You-Know-Who's name, alerting the Ministry and Voldemort's minions to their position – and the Snatchers were right in front of them, too many of them to outrun or duel.

They'd made their way through the garden and reached the Manors gates, and through the bars, she could see the ragtag band of misfits, their clothes grimy and their teeth yellowed and rotten, Greyback's whiskers and the grey fur all over his face..

She felt the Pureblood's disgust as if it were her own as the blue eyes fell onto Greyback's face.

"You claim you have Potter?"

The woman's voice sounded cold and unfeeling, so much cooler than Hermione had ever had to witness it.

"Yeah, found 'm camping out in t'woods. Got the Mudblood, too. And one of the Weasley brood."

Hermione felt Narcissa's inner turmoil as she finally opened the gates, letting them inside.

Together with the blonde, Hermione studied the faces of the Snatchers and the captives as one after the other passed by, walking towards the Manor.

'Not sure that one's Potter… boy's face is a mess. Looks like a stinging jinx. … But the color of his eyes... I'd know this color anywhere. It must be him… Yes, definitively a Weasley that one, think it could actually be the one that's always with Potter. …..The Granger girl! So it is true what they said… bet it was her who cast the stinging jinx. Definitely wouldn't have come to the Weasley boy's mind… Merlin, how I hate these Snatcher idiots! …'

Back in the house, Lucius, Bellatrix and Draco had joined the group. The sight of the dark-haired witch made Hermione feel sick to her stomach and she had to fight hard to not break the Legilimency bond. Severing it abruptly could do severe damage to both of their minds and Hermione would really rather not risk it.

"Draco, is it Potter?" Bellatrix asked, pushing her nephew towards Harry, his face turned to the floor. "Look at him!"

"I-I don't know. I'm not sure," Draco muttered, barely even taking a peek at the other boy.

"How can you not know?" Bellatrix threw her hands into the air before clasping Draco's shoulders, hard. "Look at him!"

Hermione felt the rage bubble up inside of Narcissa and soon enough, the blonde cut in. "Leave him alone!" Her voice was sharp and unyielding, her eyes piercing into her sister's back.

"Cissy, don't you see how important this is? If we hand Potter to the Dark Lord…"

"Draco already told you he isn't sure. So leave him be."

Hermione knew what would happen next. One of the Snatchers was playing around with the Sword of Gryffindor and Bellatrix' eyes would fall onto him. She would be furious once she'd discover that the sword had been found in Hermione's bag. She'd send Narcissa off to take the boys into the dungeons.

Then, it happened. And she saw the whole thing from a new perspective. She stood next to Narcissa and watched how Bellatrix Lestrange fired Cruciatus after Cruciatus at her. She watched how her own past image writhed on the floor, how she cried and begged for help.

But when a feeling of sadness accompanied with a wave of guilt hit her like a bus, she turned to look at the woman next to her instead. On the outside, Narcissa Malfoy seemed perfectly calm and collected, cold, bored even. But as she continued to study her, she saw the minute details that gave her away. That slight twitch in her perfectly shaped eyebrows. The way her fingers clenched and unclenched.

'Stop it, Bella, please. I am begging you. When did you turn into a heartless monster? … the poor girl, same age as my Draco. I should do something. I can't just-' Narcissa's gaze flitted from Hermione and Bellatrix to her son, who stood in a corner of the room. She saw what the blonde witch saw. She saw how he moved his weight from one foot to the other, how he barely seemed to be holding it together. And she felt the endless love Narcissa felt for her child, felt the anguish over the decision that had been made 17 years ago when she'd held her baby in her arms. 'I am sorry, Ms. Hermione Granger. I wish I could do something. But I have Draco to think of… If I step in…' the woman shuddered at the thought of what would happen.

As memory Hermione's cries quietened down and she still hadn't revealed anything to the deranged witch, the death eater changed her tactic.

Hermione saw how Bellatrix pulled the small knife, felt Narcissa tense next to her as she recognized it for what it was and what purpose it was about to fulfill.

'No… She can't be..'

"I am going to brand you for what you are. Mudblood," Bellatrix cackled and Hermione felt the determination that one could now clearly see in Narcissa's eyes if one was only looking for it. And she felt the tingle of strong magic in her fingers as if she were the one about to do magic.

"Dolorulcus transmissimo," the blonde whispered and not a moment after, the pain started. Hermione was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of pain she felt. Tears started streaming down her face as she felt cut after cut, felt how the flesh of her arm was torn apart by the cursed blade. Only this time around, the pain wasn't actually her own. She wasn't really hurting. But Narcissa was and she could feel just how much her sister was hurting her, hurting them both.

'I couldn't help you earlier… But I am helping you now. I wish I could tell you that the cuts on your arm will fade away in a few days time. I wish you wouldn't have to worry about it. I wish… I wish I could've done more.'

Hermione was deeply touched by the woman's thoughts and actions. She kept her eyes trained on the woman next to her as her own pained cries continued to echo off the walls. How could she remain so calm? How did she not buckle over in pain, how did she keep a straight face?

She kept watching Narcissa only for the rest of the memory, finding the woman to be more interesting than Dobby's appearance or the fight that broke out as soon as Harry and Ron stormed into the room. She didn't need to see anything else. She stayed in the woman's mind even after Dobby had apparated them away to the shell cottage, witnessed through her eyes how Lucius and Bellatrix started to bicker, how she excused herself from the scene, claiming to wanting to check on Delphi. She witnessed how Narcissa bandaged up her arm and pulled back down the sleeve of her dress. She felt her worry, her fear of the Dark Lord's wrath once he would learn of Harry's getaway… She-

* * *

"That should be quite enough," Narcissa quietly stated, having pushed Hermione out of her mind without her even noticing. It took a very skilled Occlumens to 'evict' someone from their mind in such a pleasant way and Hermione briefly wondered if there was anything Narcissa Malfoy wasn't good at.

"Why didn't you tell anyone? The aurors? Shacklebolt?" It was the first question that came to Hermione's mind and it seemed logical to ask. "Surely they would've considered-"

"Letting me run free? I highly doubt it," Narcissa raised a brow. "Of course it would have probably helped my case – still would, actually – but I didn't want to take this away from you as well. It was bad enough that you'd been taken and that my sister tortured you in the worst possible ways. I wasn't going to let everyone know what exactly had happened that night without the certainty that you'd already told people. And… well. I did one good deed. I don't expect to be praised or rewarded for what I did."

Hermione nodded at the answer, understanding where the older witch was coming from. Still, she'd never have expected this of Draco Malfoy's mother. Would've never expected her to do anything of what she'd just witnessed.

Hesitantly, she reached once more for the woman's arm, needing to touch the proof of what she'd just learned. And as her fingers ghosted over the scarring, a few tears fell from her eyes and onto the blonde's pale skin. Looking up, she found that the woman had tears in her eyes as well.

They sat there for a long while, just staring at one another as Hermione's fingers stroked over the sensitive skin in a rhythm that only she knew.

"So, this spell you used? Is it one of those old forgotten spells I won't find in any book if I don't visit the bookstore in Knockturn Alley? What exactly can it be used for? Will you-"

"Will I teach you? No, I do not think I should show you how to cast this one. It can be rather dangerous and it is dark magic, nothing you should bother your pretty little head with." When the brunette pouted, Narcissa lightly chuckled. "It seems Severus was right after all. He always said you were a little know-it-all, not unlike myself…"


	6. Chapter 6

The next day, the two witches sat in the waiting room of the small dentistry, Hermione being able to get an appointment after complaining to one of the receptionists about "her fiancée" being in unbearable pain.

As of right now, Hermione was busy with sneaking glances at the older woman sitting next to her. It was obvious to everyone with eyes that the blonde felt uncomfortable. After all, Narcissa was fidgeting with her hands, moving around on the plastic chair, her eyes flitting from a poster about tooth hygiene to the magazines on the table. The other people in the waiting room were mustering her with amused pity, thinking she was afraid of the dentist.

Hermione knew that it wasn't going to the dentist that scared her but the whole concept of moving around the Muggle world. It had taken her half an hour the evening before, just trying to explain the workings of a simple phone to the woman.

"Ms. Granger," one of the doctors' assistants, a young woman with short black hair, called her name, waving her to a room on the right. "Room 3. You can go inside with your fiancée. Dr. Wilkins will be with you in a minute."

Hermione nodded, reaching for Narcissa's hand and pulling her into the aforementioned room with her. Not before shooting the assistant a glare though. Really? Did people have no manners anymore? Narcissa wasn't her real girlfriend but to that woman, she was. So why the obvious ogling?

* * *

"You don't really want me to sit in that chair?" Narcissa asked at seeing the examination chair, her eyes showing a hint of horror, her nose scrunching up in disgust. "It looks just like the ones my grandfather Pollux used to have in his cellar.."

"Why would your grandfather have…. – oh…" Hermione trailed off, blushing under Narcissa's incredulous stare.

"Not for the kind of entertainment you seem to have in mind, Ms. Granger..." the blonde raised a brow before turning serious again. "He used them for his victims. Pollux Black was one of the first wizards to do a detailed study of the Cruciatus Curse and its effects on the human body. He wanted to find out who would break faster: Purebloods, Half-Bloods, Muggleborns, or Muggles. He also did longterm research using a few Squib children… I uhm…the book with his findings was forbidden before it could ever be published but the original script still lies somewhere in the attic of Castle Black. As well as those chairs. As a child, Bella always kept me away from the cellar and the screams coming from there. I used to believe it was because of the monsters. I learned only later that there ever really was only one monster in the house."

She shuddered. "And to think that I actually liked him the most. He always used to read to me-" she trailed off, her gaze finding Hermione's. "I apologize. I am certain you didn't need to hear-"

The blonde was interrupted as a middle-aged man in a white coat entered the room. Mr. Granger, as she knew from the photos on the wall of their former home.

Mr. Granger was a tall, lanky man, his stature reminding her somewhat of Severus, and had sandy brown hair and a pair of glasses perched on his nose. It was easy to see the resemblance between him and his daughter, their eyes and hair color nearly the same. And she also knew from said photos that Hermione had her beautiful curls as well as her facial structure from her mother.

She wondered if people would one day be able to see both her sister and You-Know-Who in Delphi. She really hoped that wouldn't be the case. Especially with the latter. Sure, Tom Riddle had been a handsome young man once. But still, it wouldn't do anyone any good if someone recognized features of the Dark Lord in her niece. Nor her sister, really.

Delphi was supposed to be hers.

Luckily enough, the three sisters had always looked somewhat alike. She could explain Delphi's beautiful dark eyes by referring to her family inheritance.. both Cygnus and Pollux had had those eyes. But-

"Darling, are you quite all right? You look ready to faint," Mrs. Granger – or rather Monika Wilkins – was staring at her, a worried expression on her face. Narcissa had been so lost in thought that she hadn't even noticed her entering the room after her husband.

"Your fiancée seems a little uncomfortable," Mr. Granger stated with a look at Hermione, a small grin moving into place. "She afraid of the dentist?"

"Uhm, yeah… something of the sort," Hermione replied, still trying to get her own bearings. She hadn't seen her parents in over a year and here they were. It somewhat hurt that they didn't recognize her even though Hermione knew that was her own fault… "I uhm…"

Narcissa saw how the girl struggled with her words and decided to help her out. Even though she'd just called her 'afraid'.

Frowning, Narcissa slipped onto one of the examination chairs, wondering briefly how many unwashed hands had touched the handles before or how much sweat had disappeared in the leather upholstery. Grimacing, she looked at Hermione, motioning towards the door with a nod.

Apparently, the girl understood, because a moment later, Narcissa heard the silent click of the locking door and saw the wand clutched tightly in the girl's fingers.

"I uhm… Mr. and Mrs. Wilkins?" Hermione was nervous, even more so as three pairs of eyes landed upon her. There really was no easy way to do this.

But she was glad Narcissa was with her. The woman may be more or less a stranger but right now, Hermione couldn't come up with the name of a single person she'd rather have with her for this.

"Can you do it?" she asked, her voice uncertain. The obliviated couple was looking at the young woman with confusion.

"Well, if you two tell us where your fiancée's pain is coming-"

"Are you sure, Hermione?" Narcissa felt a lump in her throat that wasn't there before. Would the girl really be trusting her with this? Her parents – as well as her wand?

"Yes," Hermione said without hesitancy. "I want the best for this and right now, you're far more qualified to do this than I am." She walked to Narcissa's side – briefly allowing herself a smirk at the disgusted look on her face as she climbed out of the chair, rubbing her hands on her pants – and pushed her wand into the witch's hand with a trust that even surprised herself. "I want you to do it."

Narcissa nodded, clasping the wand more firmly and getting acquainted with its different power and feeling. She knew it wouldn't work as well as her own, but it didn't feel as wrong as most strange wands usually did. Hermione's would do well enough.

"Would you please explain to me what is going on here?" Mr. Granger was suspiciously eying the 'stick' the younger woman had just passed to the other one.

"Yes, and what-" Mrs. Granger broke off and her eyes widened in shock and terrified wonder at the blue wisps that were now emanating from the stick, wafting towards her and her husband.

A short moment later, both doctors were in some kind of a trance.

Hermione looked at the older witch questioningly.

"It wouldn't do any of us any good if they started screaming, now would it?" Narcissa smiled before concentrating on the task at hand. She'd never been in a muggle's mind before and she wondered if it would be completely different from a witch or wizard's mind.

Taking a deep breath, she entered Mrs. Granger's mind with a whispered "Legilimens". For the spell to properly work, she'd need to find the barrier first, the place where her real memories were blocked by the new, artificial ones.

* * *

As she went through the memories – Diane Granger's mind resembled an old looking apothecary, thousands of small drawers all around her – Narcissa realized that there really wasn't that much of a difference between muggles and wizarding folk, making her feel a pang of guilt as she thought of her family's beliefs as well as motto 'Toujours Pur' – always pure.

Where a witch would've 'stored' the proper wand movements and ingredients for pasta with champagne sauce, a muggle woman kept the information about the ingredients, cooking times, or the right ways to chop the vegetables. It really wasn't that much different.

Finally, Narcissa found a drawer that looked older than the rest. When she tried to pull it open and it didn't budge one centimetre, she knew she'd found the block.

Feeling a slight headache coming on – it wasn't intelligent to spend too long in other people's minds and not only because of the great amount of concentration required – she ignored it and started the spell that would turn Monica Wilkins back into Diane Granger. She was thankful that Hermione had mostly only taken herself out of the memories and that she hadn't set up her parents with a new occupation. This way, this would be easier and was less likely to fail.

"Heri Mnemosynum," she said the words clearly, chanting them again and again until there was not a single other thought on her mind. 'The souvenirs of yesterday' – the name of the spell seemed quite fitting to her.

It didn't take too long for the drawer to burst open, the colors of the drawers around her changing from the clinical white to a warm mahogany. It was beautiful to see and Narcissa was amazed how much impact the existence – or absence – of one person could have on another.

Hermione waited with baited breath as she watched Narcissa quite literally work her magic. It was a beautiful, a breathtaking display and she was thankful for the fact that the blonde couldn't see her admiring gaze.

She watched as finally, after minutes of silence, Narcissa began to move her wand in intricate patterns, chanting the incantation over and over again until Hermione noticed her voice turn a little raspy, her forehead glistening under the light sheen of sweat. Then, she broke off and simultaneously, both the blonde and her mother opened her eyes.

And as the former stranger looked around the room, her eyes falling onto the young brunette, a sob escaped her lips as her eyes lit up with recognition.

A second later, Hermione found herself in her mother's arm, both Granger women now crying of happiness and endless relief.

Narcissa allowed herself to revel in the emotional reunion for a moment before she delved into Mr. Granger's mind. It was time for him to meet his family.

* * *

They sat outside of a small café an hour later, the "Wilkins'" having closed their practice for the day, stating that there'd been a personal emergency they needed to take care of. In reality though, the doctors had already faxed their resignations to the town's mayor and were intent on leaving the country with Hermione.

As of right now, their daughter was trying to explain that she was NOT engaged to Narcissa. Luckily enough, her parents had been too happy to have her back to be angry at her long for obliviating them.

"So you didn't get engaged?" Hermione's father asked for what seemed like the hundredth time, his eyes moving from Narcissa to his daughter and back again.

"No. Nor are we dating. As I said, this is kind of complicated to explain but I will try my best to do so once we're back in London," Hermione said with emphasis. This wasn't the time nor the place to discuss the subject of Narcissa and her punishment. Nor their strange relationship. Also, she could see just how exhausted the other witch was after restoring her parents' memories. They'd book a flight - Hermione had only arranged for a one-way portkey because she hadn't known how long this would take - and then they'd head to the "Wilkins'" home to stay the night.

Hermione glanced at Narcissa, a smile on her face as she studied her. She didn't know why or how, but nowadays, whenever she looked at the blonde, she couldn't help the upward movement of her lips.

* * *

 **AN/** Took me some time but I hope you like the update. Next: Fun with Narcissa on a plane ;) and we'll see Delphi and Draco again.


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